


Drip

by ShatterTheNexus



Series: In Which [7]
Category: HINAPIA (Band), PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, hourglasses, it's Yaebin, main focus on Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 05:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21386680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatterTheNexus/pseuds/ShatterTheNexus
Summary: In which every drop is more precious than Minkyeung ever bargained for.
Relationships: Kang Kyungwon | Yuha/Kim Minkyung | Roa
Series: In Which [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1439971
Kudos: 16





	Drip

**Author's Note:**

> To celebrate Hinapia's debut song, "Drip."
> 
> Will fix the tags once Hinapia becomes official.

Minkyeung can’t recall a time when she wasn’t hugging a textbook, its spine three fingers wide, with her backpack bulging at the zipper over binder corners. Now a decade older and two heads taller, she still fills her notebook margin to margin and grade-grubs for points.

“…the tangent anywhere. It is a graphical analysis of possible solutions for the differential equation…”

As the professor drones on, Minkyeung glances around. She’s the only one with an exemplary slope field sketched on graph paper within a three desk radius.

“Psst. Hey.”

Minkyeung scratches her ear, straightens the thick framed glasses sliding down her nose. She squints at the guy leaning forward in his chair.

“Yes?”

“Halloween’s coming up. You got any plans?”

A minuscule nub of guilt forms in the pit of her stomach because she can recite the twenty calculus problems from last night’s homework, but she draws blanks for his name. The best she comes up with is Frat Boy in Muscle Tee During Windchills. As if to confirm, the windows rattle ominously from a gust of wind funneling between the high rise buildings.

“I might study for the exam in two weeks,” Minkyeung mutters, scanning her dollar store planner.

Her classmate ducks his head, trying to get into her line of vision. “Oh, great. But you know, maybe it’s a good chance to let loose a bit. Have some fun.”

“Keeping a four point GPA is highly satisfactory. Is that not the same?”

“Well I was thinking more like a party. Heard the Zeta house is holding one hell of a bash. Kegs at ten, Jungle Juice Oasis at midnight. How about it?”

Minkyeung’s frown deepens. Her cheek muscles begin to ache as she pulls out their last quiz for the review. “I am not yet of legal drinking age.” If memory serves her right, he’s two years younger than her.

He blinks. Realization dawns on him as he slides back into his seat, the back legs of the chair thumping on the carpet. “_Right_,” he drawls.

Whatever message Minkyeung sends, she’s pleased to hear the professor’s uninterrupted voice as he barrels through the answer key. Minkyeung raises her hand for all five problems.

By the end of the lecture, she gains two points and rounds out a perfect score. The majority of the class loses those same two points. Everyone shuffles out the door grunting and grumbling. The party-goer is the first to leave without a backwards glance.

In the stale air of the empty classroom, something prickles in Minkyeung’s chest. Her checklist indicates nothing awry with her academic standing. She has her schedule planned out for next semester, all desired courses ready in her enrollment shopping cart on the student portal. Her budgeting spreadsheet shows she saved twice as much as last month. (Why splurge on burrito bowls when there are perfectly good green beans and Brussel sprouts on sale?) There’s nothing else to check. Nothing except…

Minkyeung tilts her head, focusing on the haze at the center of her open palm. An hourglass materializes. Her thumb runs over the polished mahogany frame, following the contours of the smooth glass bulbs to the delicate neck. Swirling within is a silver substance somewhere between vapor and liquid.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Minkyeung rolls up her sleeve. Her eyes flicker between the hourglass and the ticking second hand of her watch. She scribbles on the back of her quiz. Huh. Twelve drops per second slower than the last data point.

Rotating the hourglass, she observes the mesmerizing mist sloshing around. Barely twenty years on earth and the upper bulb has only depleted by a third. Minkyeung wonders what her soulmate is like, and if they’re as every bit impatient to meet as she isn’t.

After all, there are several more accolades to chase without a lover getting in the way.

~|~|~|~

Vaccinations updated. Final grades posted. Schedule finalized. Scholarship renewed. Letters of recommendation requested. Research assistant application submitted. Tutoring paycheck cashed. Rent paid. Name on the Dean’s List. Nominated for a women’s leadership award.

The comprehensive update sends with a swoop in the chat.

Minkyeung makes dinner in silence. Baked chicken breast, a side of rice. Fantastic. More Brussel sprouts. The clink of cutlery and traffic honks five stories below in the snow-covered streets are her only entertainment.

She scans her studio apartment. A single bed pushed into the corner, the dresser set up on the opposite side. The plain two-seat table is suitable for studying and meals. The walls are clean, smooth, and devoid of decorations. No different than a showroom. And that was perfectly fine with Minkyeung. It’s cheap, functional, free of distractions.

She showers by eight-thirty. In bed by nine. Just as she turns off the only lamp in the apartment, her phone buzzes on the nightstand.

**Mother: **_Good_.

Minkyeung lies awake under stiff ironed sheets.

Good. As in, _Good. You’re doing what you’re supposed to._

Their exchanges are near carbon copies every month. An achievement summary from Minkyeung on the right. _Good_ from her mother on the left. Nothing more, nothing less.

Minkyeung thinks she’s fulfilling her purpose. She rolls onto her side and opens her palm. A dull warmth shimmers over her skin before the hourglass appears. She stares through the darkness until her dry eyes itch. Three drops in thirty seconds. Fingers curl around the frame, push past the slight solid resistance, then the hourglass vanishes.

She’s doing everything perfectly. So what’s missing?

For the first time she ponders what it would be like to look through another’s eyes and see herself as the hourglass empties. Minkyeung thinks with a cold numbness, she’d walk away.

~|~|~|~

Friday classes end at three in the afternoon. Minkyeung sits straight-backed at her only table, twirling a pencil in her hand. Her books lay untouched in a neat stack. All of her homework and readings are complete. Her professors haven’t revealed the midterm essay prompts yet. Opening up to a syllabus, she skims for what the next unit test will include.

Slowly her eyes shift to the hourglass perched on the corner of the table. As if caught in a sinful act, every particle of the mist halts, suspended in the upper bulb. The neck remains dry and hollow. Minkyeung reaches out to flick the glass. She grasps the frame firmly, shakes it once. 

Nothing. It’s been frozen for nearly a month.

A flock of birds zooms past her window. Their chirps rip through the silence. The fleeting shadows of their formation give way to sunlight spilling into her barren apartment. The legs of her chair scrape against the wooden floor as she follows them. The wave of sparrows swerves through the bright blue sky, then dives down to nest in the lush canopy of trees. Minkyeung presses her palm against the warm glass pane. She can almost taste the fresh air, feel the brush of strangers as they pass.

An invisible force surges up Minkyeung’s arm, rattling her bones.

_Drip_.

A single silver droplet sinks through the neck into the lower bulb. The mist ripples. Strangely, a sudden calm radiates from Minkyeung’s chest. She squints at the light glaring off the hourglass. Inviting her, coaxing her. She balls up her fist and the hourglass disappears. The door slams behind her as she stomps down the stairs, her keys jingling in her coat pocket.

Walking through the park on Fridays becomes part of her routine rather than transcribing lectures. Her hourglass maintains a rate of one minuscule drop per minute. The next Friday, curiosity gets the better of her. The moment her feet reach the curb of the park grounds, she impulsively turns at the intersection and continues straight. She ends up at the riverwalk downtown.

Minkyeung opens her palm to the sky and inhales the crisp late winter air. Four drops per minute.

Wide eyes scan the local shops tucked underneath bridges and arches. Snack stalls with awnings and steam rising from open air griddles. Boisterous bartenders waving pedestrians into their pop up bars, suggesting whatever’s on tap. Children bouncing from one antique toy shop to the next. Dangling hand-carved trinkets on sale for old souls.

She weaves in and out of the crowd that builds as the sun sets. She’d been wandering for two hours and hadn’t thought of retreating to her studio once. She takes a seat by the river, watching a family of ducks bobs past to chase a floating patch of soggy bread. Minkyeung leans back to rest her head on the back of the bench. A window washer scales a business center forty stories tall on the opposite bank. The streetlights flicker on and they descend safely, nose red as a strawberry peeking out of a thick scarf.

“I could never do that.”

Minkyeung looks to her right. She hadn’t noticed a woman sitting next to her. She seems to take Minkyeung’s surprise as a cue to explain.

“I have a lot of fears,” the woman laughs.

Normally Minkyeung would leave, avoid small talk that didn’t progress towards any of her goals. So, she speaks.

“I like heights. You can see everything. Little dots moving all around you. But I don’t like the cold,” says Minkyeung.

The woman smiles. “Then it’s fortunate we’re down here.”

As if the world wanted to weigh in on the matter, a gust of wind burst through the city. Minkyeung hears the whistle, sees the trees higher up on the main streets flail violently. Yet down by the riverwalk, though the woman’s caramel blonde hair flutters gently over her shoulder, Minkyeung feels none of the biting chill.

“Hey. Would you like to get some apple cider? There’s a stall with a really good family recipe. They get the spice balance just right. Warms you up like a hug.” The woman nods her head toward the south.

Minkyeung’s lips quirk up, then her phone buzzes with an alarm. She frowns apologetically. “Sorry, I need to catch the last express train.” She stands up abruptly, then falls back with a yelp. Pain shoots up her neck, her muscles straining painfully.

“Whoa, hold on there.”

The woman scoots over. She pulls off her gloves and tries to untangle Minkyeung’s hair wedged between the planks of the bench. After a minute, Minkyeung sees the woman’s hands pull back into her lap. They’re pale as the remnants of snow on the frozen patches of urban green space nearby, fingers dangerously pink and raw. She bites her lip, opens her mouth a few times like she’s contemplating a solution she knows Minkyeung won’t like.

“What should I do?” Minkyeung asks anyway.

“I can cut it?” The woman shrinks back, her narrow shoulders caving in like she’s bracing for Minkyeung’s wrath.

“Do it.”

Minkyeung schools her expression into one of extreme calm. Her insides seem to disintegrate when the woman pulls out a pair of scissors from her bag. This is unexpected. Minkyeung’s unprepared, a word that has never described her in twenty odd years. But the ease and control with which the woman directs the blades eases her mind. Minkyeung feels the restraint holding her head back loosen with every severed strand. She turns to look at the tuft of black hair wrapped around metal screws.

“Thanks.”

The woman sighs in relief. Then she presses a business card into Minkyeung’s hand. “Stop by if you want me to even it out. You better run now.” She glances over Minkyeung’s shoulder at the station. “I think your train’s arriving soon.”

~|~|~|~

“Welcome to Hina’s Hair Salon! May I have your name?”

“Uh, Minkyeung.”

“Minkyeung, do you have an appointment with us today?”

“Not exactly. I’m looking for someone. Jung Eunwoo?” Minkyeung shuffles from one foot to the other, debating whether an escape is still possible.

The receptionist surveys the shop. Minkyeung spots a familiar woman sweeping a mound of hair at the back. Eunwoo jogs to the front, broom in hand.

“Hey, I was wondering if I’d ever see you again.”

Minkyeung holds up two cups in her gloved hands. “Have a spare moment? I brought cider.”

Eunwoo grins and turns to the receptionist. “I’ll take her as a walk-in, my last appointment.” Eunwoo waves Minkyeung over to the last cushioned chair. Her hands act on autopilot, threading through Minkyeung’s soft hair. She finds the patch of uneven strands and curls them around her fingers. “What are you thinking? A simple trim?”

Minkyeung breathes in the steam from her cup. The air warms her lungs. “A bob.” Her heart leaps when she meets Eunwoo’s wide eyes in the wall-length mirror.

Eunwoo’s hands gently massage Minkyeung’s shoulders. “Try saying that without your voice shaking,” she laughs. “What do you really want?”

“A bob,” Minkyeung repeats with more conviction, though her hand starts trembling. She puts her cider on the counter before it scalds her. “Really. I want it.”

Eunwoo stares back skeptically. “Uh huh…”

“I just— I need a change.”

“One of those phases?”

“One of what?”

Eunwoo waves her hand loftily. “Every dramatic coming of age movie has a scene where the heroine lops off her hair in a dingy bathroom and she struts out with perfect curls.”

Minkyeung bites her lip guiltily.

Eunwoo gives her a lopsided grin through the mirror and shrugs. “Alright.”

It feels almost too light. Like Minkyeung’s head will float away. She watches as the tresses that once tickled her waist now sway freely over her shoulders.

“I’m surprised your hands haven’t cramped up,” Eunwoo remarks. She looks pointedly at Minkyeung’s nails digging into the armrests, her knuckles bone-white. Eunwoo holds up a bottle. Nothing but a wheeze escapes the nozzle. “I’ll be right back.”

Minkyeung raises a stiff hand and conjures her hourglass. She gasps. A drop every three seconds, sometimes two if they trickle together like summer rain on sun-kissed skin. She shakes the sudden imagery out of her head and has to steady herself because the familiar weight of her hair is gone. The hourglass fades away as she pulls her arm back under the cape.

Eunwoo skips back with a new bottle of conditioning spray. She fluffs up Minkyeung’s hair with a couple spritzes, combs through it with her fingers until it looks fashionably tousled. “You look beautiful,” she says with a fond smile.

Really it’s as good as magic when relief with a dash of thrill rushes over Minkyeung as she takes in her reflection.

“Nuh uh. Put that away. This is on the house.”

Minkyeung frowns. Her wallet falls into her lap. “That’s not fair.”

Eunwoo hooks an arm around Minkyeung’s neck. The skin on skin contact is a strange sensation. “My shift’s over. Buy me dinner.”

~|~|~|~

The sky’s a thin wispy grey, but bright and promising. Minkyeung feels especially adventurous, so she goes out on a Thursday night. Rewarding herself a day early when she still has another 8AM class for the week makes her stomach jump before she’s out the door. It tugs and tugs with every step towards the city.

More people mill about the shopping district. A sizable crowd gathers down a side street. The tug is more violent now. Minkyeung ignores it, weaving her way to the center.

A small girl with a mischievous glint in her eyes sits on a milk crate. Her beanie has thick loose threads, she’s drowning under layers of oversized flannels and a shaggy moth-eaten coat, and the palms of her fingerless wool gloves are severely discolored. With lightning quick movements, she shuffles a deck of playing cards on a large cardboard box.

“Five dollars says ya can’t find the ace of spades. But I got a special deal, just for ya. Put down eight and I’ll give ya two chances. How ‘bout it, chump?” The girl snickers at the skeptical man in the front row, holding the card between her fingers. She plucks out the queen of hearts and seven of diamonds too.

His friends jostle him around. There’s a suspicious clink of glass concealed in brown paper bags. He stumbles forward and slams a few wrinkled bills on the box with a snarl. The cards flip over like burger patties in a Fifties diner commercial. They barely touch the box before she swipes them over. To the middle, left, right, and back again.

“Stop!” shouts the man, his bloodshot eyes intent on setting fire to the whole setup.

He points. She flips.

“Bada bing, bada boom.”

He sinks onto his knees, fuming as he dents the corner of the box.

Minkyeung watches idly. Through the tantrum, the jeers, the subsequent challenges, the girl’s devilish grin never wavers. The man’s wallet empties. Minkyeung wonders how many of these people’s cash is wedged in the girl’s grimy boots. Have they never seen a con artist before?

“What about you, Victoria Secret?”

Minkyeung blushes when the crowd clears a radius around her. She waves her hands frantically “Oh— No, I’m just passing through. I don’t really gamble.”

“C’mon sweetheart. It’s just a game.”

_Sweetheart. _It makes her skin crawl. Minkyeung would usually ignore this kind of thing. Walk away and never visit this part of town again.

Which is exactly why Minkyeung marches up to the box, squats on a spare crate, and slaps down a crisp bill. The adrenaline makes her dizzy but she has a goal. Goals always ground her. The girl’s hands move like a hummingbird’s wingbeats, consistent as ever since Minkyeung joined the grumbling crowd twenty minutes ago. But Minkyeung never looks down. She observes the girl instead.

“Is it on the left? On the right? Center field?”

Minkyeung leans over the box with a disarming smile, her forearms on either side of the playing cards. The slightest pressure of her left thumb tells her the ace of spades is hidden under the girl’s right sleeve. The girl’s lip twitches and fear flashes in her eyes. Then Minkyeung pulls back and flips over the right card. Queen of hearts.

“Darn. I thought I had it. Guess you’re too fast, kid,” sighs Minkyeung. She shrugs halfheartedly, kicking the crate over the curb. The crowd parts for her.

When she rounds the corner, Minkyeung nearly stuffs her fist in her mouth and collapses against a streetlight.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my _God._ I _cannot_ believe I just did that. And it cost me money! But… Wow.”

She can’t help but chuckle. It was oddly exhilarating. She joined in on a whim and was in complete control of the situation. Yet any moment, she could’ve lost it. She could’ve spiraled and she didn’t. To gamble a loss and come out feeling like a winner. It just didn’t make sense but it felt _damn good_.

Minkyeung pushes herself up. A deep exhale cleanses her lungs, condenses into a puff of steam as the night creeps up on her. She takes a step toward the train station, but a tug on her jacket holds her back.

“Here’s your money, ma’am.”

Minkyeung’s eyebrows shoot up when she sees the street magician with her head hung low, holding out the same crisp ten dollar note.

“I don’t understand. You won it fair and square,” says Minkyeung.

The girl snorts loudly. It hurts, because her free hand flies up to pinch her nose. She waves the bill around. “No, I didn’t. Look, people know, but you _knew_. And you didn’t rat me out. So here. Take it back.”

They stare at each other, the girl in frustration and Minkyeung in curiosity. She calculates her next move. It’s risky, but worth it.

“Everything in your boot. Would you rather spend it at the bakery or on a new phone?”

“The bakery,” blurts the girl without hesitation. Her arm starts to tremble, so Minkyeung takes her hand, the bill crumpling between their palms.

“What’s your name?”

“Bada.”

“Do you like burgers, Bada?”

Minkyeung pulls her into a casual place serving a variety of western fare.

“Good evening, ladies. Welcome to Pina's Pizzeria. My name’s Yaebin and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with drinks?”

“Co— Water’s fine. Thank you.”

Minkyeung watches Bada dip behind the large menu. She turns to the waitress. “Cola with a lemon slice, please.”

“Be back in a flash.”

When the drinks arrive, Minkyeung switches their cups and sips from the water before Bada can protest. Minkyeung shakes her head, saying her lipstick’s already staining the glass. She hides her smile when Bada finally relents, sipping the sweet fizzy drink with delight. It’s easier to convince Bada to order anything she wants after that. Yaebin scrawls all over her notepad and speed-walks to the kitchen. In two minutes she has steaming bowls of soup for them with oyster crackers piled in the center of the table. Bada devours hers, Minkyeung slowly cools every sip. She nudges the crackers over, muttering about having old biscuits in her cabinet already and encouraging Bada to store them in her pocket. Bada does so without a fuss.

Minkyeung gets a chicken salad entrée. Bada gets a heaping stacked burger with onion rings. Minkyeung’s quick to dispel the guilt weighing down on Bada’s shoulders. The burger shrinks bite by bite. Minkyeung wonders how much Bada would’ve grown by now if she had the means.

Bada relaxes more as they chat, much more content and less guarded now that her stomach’s full and her hands aren’t shivering and pink. She tells Minkyeung all the best deals around the city, where the hot spots are and the best times to show up. (“Of course I come later. There’s nothing that brings in business better than a bored wait list hovering around the sidewalk.”)

After three refills of soda, Bada excuses herself to use the washroom. Yaebin comes by with two pitchers to top off their drinks.

“Separate checks?”

“All on me,” says Minkyeung. Her metallic credit card glints from the overhead lamp.

Yaebin glances over her shoulder and lowers her voice. “You don’t know her, do you?”

Minkyeung shrugs. “I know her now.”

Yaebin scoffs lightly with an airy giggle. The kind that reverberates deep in her chest. “How old is she?”

“Seventeen, I think?”

“We’ll make it work. Tell her to stop by and apply for a job. If she wants it. We could always use more hands and the owners are generous. Meals included during shifts. And there are some cheap, clean hostels in the area.”

“O-oh, thanks. I’ll pass the message along.”

Nodding, Yaebin turns with the pitchers and Minkyeung’s card in hand, then pauses. “I’ve just… I’ve been there before. I’ve been _her_ before. I didn’t have anyone like you though. So thank you, on her behalf.”

A month flies by and Minkyeung’s exhausted from three midterms over two days. She foregoes her meticulously portioned groceries and instead strolls through the city in a light jacket. The air is warmer; the days, longer. Through an orange tinted window, someone waves her into the restaurant. Bada and Yaebin seat her in a corner booth and scurry off to finish their shifts.

Minkyeung’s heart throbs in her chest, steady and strong. She lays her hand flat on the table facing up, and focuses on the haze distorting the salt shaker.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Two silvery drops per second. The top bulb is a quarter full. Minkyeung grins and closes her fist. The hourglass disintegrates. Yaebin fills the table with the usual as Bada slides into the booth while nursing a glass of strawberry lemonade.

~|~|~|~

One shot to start. They queue up the songs, then the bottle makes its way around for refills.

Yaebin holds her liquor surprisingly well. Eunwoo doesn’t. She belts out note after note of a whispery ballad while draped over the tacky iridescent vinyl couch. It squeaks every time she squirms and runs a hand down her torso in what she thinks is sultry choreography. Minkyeung fares better marginally. She sways in her seat and peruses the karaoke bible. It takes three tries to enter a five-digit song code, after which Yaebin pries the control panel from her hands.

It’s well past one in the morning when Yaebin bids them goodbye. “I’m driving Bada to a testing center in six hours. She’s always studying on her breaks. She’s not getting locked out of her college entrance exam on my account.”

Minkyeung drapes Eunwoo’s arm over her shoulder and they hobble out of the venue. The two blocks to Eunwoo’s apartment has Minkyeung huffing like a bear. Thankfully, she’s only a flight of stairs away from dumping Eunwoo unceremoniously onto the living room couch. A glob of spit dribbles out of Eunwoo’s mouth and onto the floor. Minkyeung lets a little bit of sympathy squeeze through the cracks. On her way out, she triple-bags the trash can and scoots it by Eunwoo’s head. A bottle of water and painkillers are on standby.

The cool spring air wafts over her burning cheeks. The pebble she kicks every three steps keeps her company until it flies into the grassy little league baseball field of a deserted park. She stumbles to the playground and sinks down onto a swing. Her long fingers curl around the creaking chains, the rust on her palms reminding her of sunny days when her fingers were short and stubby. Days when she had to hop onto the seat because it was too tall. Days when her mother could hold a real conversation, when her father wasn’t on business trips.

She kicks off the ground hard, wood chips splashing onto the sidewalk. All she hears is air pumping out of her lungs and the skid of her shoes on cracked soil. The street lamps linger frame by frame. She giggles while trying to trace the streams of light with an outstretched hand. The swing twirls with every arc. Then she reaches too far, laughs at the sky from the weightlessness of her body, and her back thuds on the ground. The swing rattles loudly above her, barely scraping her nose as she flinches out of the way. She crawls onto the kiddie slide to catch her breath.

“Accio!” she shouts, keeling over in amusement when she conjures her hourglass.

She gazes at it fondly. As if sensing her inebriation, the mist stills. Vaporous grains slow in their torrential whirlwind for her to view at leisure. They sparkle in a mesmerizing rhythm. Then they glow brighter, faster, like flashes of lightning in a bottle. Starting from the top rim of the pooling substance down to where a drop teeters in the neck between the bulbs.

_BANG!_

Minkyeung gasps and the mist fades to a dull grey, no longer luminous and playful, then vanishes with a gust of wind. The park is empty save for a motorcycle parked at the corner and a stray kitten meowing loudly near the alleyway. Minkyeung tiptoes closer and bends down to calm it. It arches its back.

“C’mon,” Minkyeung coaxes. She clicks her tongue softly.

The cat hisses and backs away as the clicking continues. To Minkyeung’s horror, it isn’t coming from her. She springs up, tries to run, but her legs give out and her eyes cross. Briefly the sidewalk becomes the sky. The world rights itself with a harsh yank. Her back hits a brick wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. The acrid stench of cheap bourbon and cigarettes stings her nose.

“Aren’t you a pretty one…”

Minkyeung claws at the hands grasping her coat collar. She thrashes around and tries to knee him, but the man locks her foot in place with his own. Her ankle bends at an odd angle. She grits her teeth and holds back a whimper.

He raises a grimy thumb to trace her jawline. She spits in his face. Minkyeung braces for the worst when something slams into the dumpster bin. The cat screeches and runs into Minkyeung’s arms. She hugs it protectively, wondering how she ended on up the ground. The man is hunched over by the dumpster. The blood from his nose flows freely onto the pavement.

“Get the fuck outta here,” comes a growl from above.

A shadow stands in front of Minkyeung. All she can make out are combat boots. The man poises to lunge. With a flick of the wrist, a switchblade springs out, gleaming in the dim light. The cat hisses when the man wails and sprints down the alley out of sight.

“Hey. You okay?”

Leaning against the wall for support, Minkyeung’s bewildered to find a woman tucking the pocketknife into her leather jacket.

“What’re you doin’ out this late anyway?” The woman sighs at the lack of response. “You live far? Can you make it home?”

Minkyeung shifts the trembling cat into the crook of her arm and points past the intersection.

The woman seems skeptical. “Should I call you a taxi or something?” Her eyes widen comically because Minkyeung _laughs_.

Minkyeung bends over, hand to her stomach. It’s been a good few years since she heard the word “taxi.” She wipes a tear from her eye and spots the slightest smile tugging at the woman’s lips.

“Alrighty. Guess you’re fine? Next time you go out drinkin’, crash at a friend’s. No more swingin’ at a park all by yourself. Got it?”

Minkyeung blushes and nods. The woman scuffs her boots, peers up and down the quiet street, then swings a leg over the parked motorcycle.

“Wait!”

Minkyeung can’t explain the sudden rush of fear at an unspoken goodbye. The cat tilts its head in question. The woman raises an eyebrow. When Minkyeung doesn’t say anything more, she raises her helmet.

It clatters on the ground as she inhales sharply, grasping her right hand with a wince. “Shit!”

Minkyeung squeezes her eyes shut and groans. The air ignites and scorches her palm. Her hourglass bursts into existence. The silver mist blinks rapidly, every grain flashing in sequence like an incandescent dance. The woman struggles against the whirring force of her own hourglass, golden and shimmering fiercely.

The vapors drain, the bottom bulb swirls. Then the hourglasses splinter into white light. The throbbing pain in Minkyeung’s hand ebbs away with the breeze.

“So you’re my soulmate.” The woman scoffs and leans over the gas tank.

Minkyeung’s heart jumps at the rev of an engine. “You’re leaving? Just like that?” Desperation colors her voice. It’s so strange, so illogical.

“Yeah?”

“B-but we’re—”

The woman eyes Minkyeung from head to toe, taking in the brand name coat, the fashionable scarf, manicured nails and designer shoes. Her expression borders on condescending. She slides off the bike, swipes the helmet off the ground, tucks it by her hip, and strides up to Minkyeung. She leans in close, her raspy voice audible above the buzzing motor.

“Honey, I’m no good for you.”

Though Minkyeung feels her bones trembling at her recklessness, striking up a challenge invigorates her.

“Maybe I don’t need what’s good for me.”

When the woman clenches her jaw, Minkyeung reels herself in. Perhaps she overstepped her boundaries.

“At least tell me your name,” Minkyeung compromises.

The helmet presses into her stomach.

“Ride with me. Anywhere I want. However long I want. Then you’ll get a name.”

“Wh-where would you take me?” Minkyeung glances at the cat as if asking for reassurance. Distracted, it flattens a paw against the tinted face shield and chews at its reflection.

“Anywhere I want,” the woman repeats with a smirk. “So, do you trust me?”

~|~|~|~

_Ding_.

**Eunwoo: ** _last night was lit_

**Eunwoo: ** _thanks for bringing me home_

**Eunwoo: ** _hows your head? mines killing me lol_

**Eunwoo: ** _we should get soup_

**Eunwoo: ** _mmmm soup_

_Ding._

**Yaebin: ** _Bada’s taking her test now!! Hope she does well!_

**Yaebin: ** _Sorry I left you guys_

**Yaebin: ** _Eunwoo said she’s hungover so I sent her a get well audio message_

**Yaebin: ** _It was me banging pots and pans lmao_

**Yaebin: ** _You’re usually up by now. You didn’t drink that much_

**Yaebin: ** _Hello?_

_Ding._

**Eunwoo: ** _yappy said you never told her you got home or that you dropped me off_

**Eunwoo: ** _yelping*_

**Eunwoo: ** _yawning**_

**Eunwoo: ** _omfg Y ae bin!!!***_

**Eunwoo: ** _mankey?? you ok??_

**Eunwoo: ** _Min K ye un G_

**Eunwoo: ** _omg if you dont answer im shaving your head and mine_

**Eunwoo:** _wait no_

_Ding._

**Mother:** _Midterm reports were finalized two days ago. Send it ASAP._

“Who…hmmph…”

“Shhh, it’s nothing.”

Minkyeung smiles when the groaning fades into a content sigh. An arm drapes over her stomach, pulling the blanket tighter. The small furball between them purrs softly.

_I’m fine, I’m safe_, she texts her friends, adding an emoji for good measure. Then she locks her phone and tosses it aside.

They left the city behind hours ago. The sun begins its ascent, bathing the beach in pink and lavender hues. The waves are dark and calm, washing over the smooth pebbles lining the shore. Two beer bottles are planted in the sand next to a pair of heels and black boots.

Minkyeung breathes in the salty air.

“Thanks, Gyeongwon.”

It’s funny how the smile behind the soft kiss pressed to her collarbone is more thrilling than anything. Minkyeung thinks she wants more of it, more of _this_.


End file.
